


Tunblr dot com

by lotorslance



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Lancelot - Freeform, Long Distance Relationship, M/M, Modern AU, golf au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 10:57:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13500422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotorslance/pseuds/lotorslance
Summary: Lance (@sharpshot) falls for an internet-famous blogger (@lotee) after finding out they're both golfers! What will happen when his idol actually follows him back?





	Tunblr dot com

He was _flawless._  
  
And he was _unattainable._  
  
Lance groaned as he scrolled through Tunblr user **lotee’s** archive for the fifth time that day. Sure, it was excessive, but he could never get tired of looking at his skin’s immaculate sheen, luxurious long hair, expensive make-up applied with utmost precision—all tied up in a rich person’s bow. His pretty face was always accompanied by the latest iFone (if he was taking a selfie—did he have two?), gorgeous girls, a fancy watch from a foreign brand that Lance could never even begin to pronounce, or the newest Ralf Lauran polo.  
  
He seemed to have a lot of Ralf Lauran and it only occurred to Lance a two and a half weeks into stalking **lotee’s** archive that it was because his team was apparently sponsored…which was really cool. His own golf team was sponsored by Abibas—affordable, but paling in the ‘flashiness’ department.  
  
That didn’t mean Lance didn’t rock the grey polo and highlighter orange jacket with all he had, taking a multitude of selfies every time he stepped on to the green.  
  
He did his best to please his followers—a small hoard of fangirls that sent him anon asks and inflated his ego on a regular basis—with them. The attention'd kept him subsided for some time now, but after a whole year and a half of college without finding that ‘special someone’, Lance was upset: he’d always heard stories about how people met their soulmates in college, but here he was, lonely and single, resorting to the internet for human interaction.  
  
The most embarrassing part for him was that he’d never even been on a real date before, let alone have a kiss, or even be physically close to a boy or a girl…except for Hunk, but he didn’t count because things were _strictly planetonic_ between them (not that he didn’t sneak a wistful glance at the other while he was changing or anything…).  
  
He was part of his school’s golf team, but it was a small group of boys and while they competed as a team, the sport was relatively individual without much interaction: just a day with kids from other schools you'd probably never see again until the next meet, most of which only ever bragged about their expensive cars or model girlfriends. Consisting only of about thirteen members, Lance easily had taken the first varsity spot on the team, despite shooting consistently in the mid-40s. Meets were always embarrassing for this reason but he seemed to improve, little by little, and Coach Coran’s advice always went a long way. He’d cry, take it in, then go back to training harder than before and it always paid off the next week.  
  
When he wasn’t training, he was on Tunblr. In fact, he’d gotten relatively addicted to the site upon entering college—which probably wasn’t a great thing, given how much time he spent on it rather than studying (damn those general education classes—when would he use geology with a theater degree, anyway?).  
  
The Golfblr community, however, was… _small,_ so at first he’d been excited just to find another golf blog to follow and enthuse about the sport with, but then he’d seen how gorgeous **lotee** was and he fell, hard. It only worsened when he saw that they were only a few counties away from one another: should Lance make it to state this year, they’d be able to meet up like in some kind of modern fairy tale.  
  
But **sharpshot** never ended up following **lotee**. He couldn’t bring himself to and while his cursor had hovered over the button on a daily basis, fear overtook him each time. He didn’t want to live worrying about how the other would perceive his every post, but he did anyway, despite **lotee** not knowing he even existed.  
  
And he had no reason too—Lance’d not followed him, never liked any of his posts, never commented, just…stared. His archive was bookmarked in his toolbar and he opened it several times a day: usually in the morning, his lunch break, and then throughout the night always waiting for a new selfie or text post—anything.  
  
It was stupid to have a crush on an internet celebrity (he assumed he was one, if his follower count on his linked Pictagram account meant anything), especially one he made no attempt to communicate with. Hunk was quick to point this out whenever Lance whined that he was invisible; it was because of his own doing. Should he try and get ignored, sure, _then_ he could complain, but as of now, he had no reason to.  
  
They had this conversation almost nightly and while Hunk was an incredibly patient roommate with a huge heart, he could only put up with so much and Lance could tell he was pushing it tonight. Hunk was on edge, studying for his advanced Physics exam on the opposite side of the dorm and listening to Lance’s pining moans were not on top of his priority list.  
  
“Just click the button already!”  
  
“I can’t!”  
  
“Why not? It’s all you ever talk about, so just _do it_ , man!”  
  
“Because then he’ll know I exist!”  
  
“Isn’t that what you want?”  
  
Lance’s cheeks flushed at the idea. “Yeah. Yeah, it is! But—“  
  
_“So just do it!”_

He pouted, turning back to his laptop, scrolling up and down the archive once more before refreshing the page.  
  
No new posts: **lotee** was possibly offline and with his massive follower count, **sharpshot’s** follow notification would get lost in a sea of notes. Unsure if that was a good or bad thing, he bit his lip and finally clicked the button before immediately slamming his laptop shut and falling on his back, staring up at the ceiling, hands behind his head.  
  
He’d finally done it: **lotee** would know he existed if he ever decided to take a glance at his follower list. Sure, they weren’t DMing, but at least this was a start. Maybe he’d start sending anons…  
  
Lance grinned to himself as he imagined a scenario in which all of **lotee’s** followers began to ship him with the anon who was great in every single way and appreciated even the tiniest things about **lotee** ; the things no one else noticed because they were too focused on his flashy jewelry or perfect mascara application. **lotee** would begin to fall for him and it was only then that **sharpshot** would come off anon and they’d meet at state and live happily ever after.  
  
'At least a boy can dream,' he thought with a sigh.  
  
The dorm fell quiet until a notification on his phone sounded and Lance, still in his daydreaming stupor, lazily grabbed up his phone and gazed up at the new alert.  
  
_**lotee** started following you._

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a pop culture fic where all the names are rip-offs! AHHH I know I have lots of other fics to be working on but this AU has taken over my life. Also, as discussed on the Lancelot discord, Lotor wears a lot of the brand Odd Future's pastel clothing (check out their collab at Zumiez!)--and of course, Ralph Lauren. Always pastel. Because he is 1000% aesthetic.  
> AND LASTLY his URL is lotee bc I've always called him "Lotty" but no one else seemed to, and I just think it's cute...also, puns!


End file.
